Mother's Day
by cmar
Summary: PRTF: For most of his life it's been just Wes and his father, but now that's about to change. Wes takes Jen to visit his mother. In 'Time' series. Complete.


Wes, Jen, and Mr. Collins belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, but I am not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Kathleen Collins is mine. 

Rated PG: some mature concepts. 

For my mother, Lita M., and RQ who lost his mother recently. 

This is part of my series of Time Force stories, and takes place after the events of 'Time Over' and 'Sins of the Fathers'. 

Kindly take a moment to review... 

Mother's Day

* * *

Sun, trees, manicured lawn over gently rolling hills. Soft spring air drifting over his face, smelling faintly of flowers, grass, and warm earth. The pathway led past areas filled with neat rows of graves, stone markers carved with names of people long gone, nothing of them left now but memories, for as long as there was anyone to remember. Wes looked out over them. So many, and yet each one had been a unique individual, special to their family, their friends. 

They knew the way, had been here many times, had been coming on this day ever since he could remember. Every year they stood at her grave, the two of them, each with his own thoughts, with memories, or regrets, or wishing for what might have been -- should have been. But this time was different, there was someone new. 

At the familiar spot, they left the path and wound their way between markers and gravestones, finally stopping. Wes glanced at his companions, his father standing still and calm, Jen hanging back, perhaps not yet feeling she belonged as part of the family. Then he turned to read the words inscribed on the stone marker before them, the same words he read every year. 

Kathleen Sullivan Collins  
Beloved wife and mother  
1951 - 1977

"It's beautiful here. Cemeteries always seem so peaceful." Jen's voice sounded wistful. 

"Yes. It's nice to think of her being here. I mean…" 

"We know what you mean, Wes." Alan Collins smiled. He stepped forward to lay the flowers he had brought on the grave. 

Wes put his own offering of flowers down at the base of the headstone, and then straightened again to put his arm around Jen's shoulders. "I feel a little weird doing this," he said. 

"It _was_ your idea. You don't have to do it, son." 

"I know, Dad. I want to." He cleared his throat, tightened his hold on Jen, and looked down at the earth. "Mom? It's Mother's Day today and I -- er -- I want you to meet Jen. We're -- um -- getting married…" He stopped, feeling clumsy and foolish. "I wish I could introduce you to her for real, Jen." 

"You never know. Maybe she's watching, and this _is_ for real." 

"I don't know. Maybe." He sighed. "I wish I remembered her." 

"You don't? Not anything?" 

"Wes was barely two when she died," Alan said. "Much too young to remember." 

"How did she…" Jen hesitated. "Maybe I shouldn't ask." 

"It's okay. She died of leukemia. We were only married for five years. Not much time to be together..." He was silent for a few seconds, gazing at the grave. "I wish she could have seen you grow up, Wes. She would have been proud." 

He shrugged, embarrassed. "I hope so." 

"She said she was very glad to live long enough to have a child." 

Wes hesitated, unsure of whether to ask the question on his mind. "Was it bad for her, having me? Could she have lived longer, if she hadn't?" 

Alan looked at him sharply. "No. Don't ever think that way, Wes. She had the choice, could have ended the pregnancy. But she wanted you, I think even more because she knew she'd probably never have another chance. We worried about the effects on you of continuing chemotherapy while she was pregnant, but the doctors said it was reasonably safe -- and she needed it -- so that's what we did. Your existence didn't interfere with treatment, didn't harm her. If anything, you gave her more motivation to live, made her fight harder, gave her strength to go on." 

"Still, it must have been hard on her." 

"Having a baby's never easy, but she wanted to do it. Her only regret was that she knew she wouldn't have much time to spend with you..." He looked down at the grave again, a gentle smile on his face, his eyes seeing some distant memory. "I can still remember how she looked, the things she said, the day you were born. She was so happy and proud…" 

* * *

"Did you see him, Alan?" Her face glowed with excitement and joy. It almost masked the exhaustion, and the weakness he knew no amount of rest would cure. "Isn't he beautiful?" 

"He sure is." He sat next to the hospital bed and took her hand. "Not very polite, though. Wouldn't even wake up to say hello to his old man." 

"How does it feel to be a father?" 

"Great. How's it feel to be a mother?" 

"Wonderful." She smiled again, but her brows creased anxiously. "He looks healthy, doesn't he?" 

"Of course. The doctor said he's fine." 

"I was afraid…" 

"All the tests indicated there would be no problem. You shouldn't have worried." He reached a hand to smooth wisps of damp blonde hair away from her face. 

To tell the truth, he had been worried too, and still was. The odds were in their favor, the chemotherapy they had used during her pregnancy didn't harm the unborn child in the majority of cases -- but that wouldn't matter if it happened in _this_ case. Thankfully, the baby had been born with no signs of damage, but he knew they would always worry about him. Or _he_ would. 

The chemo had only worked temporarily. The leukemia had already recurred. They would try again. The doctors hadn't given up, not with such a young woman, a new mother. But in Kathy's case, the odds were against them. 

No point in thinking about that now. This was a time to think about beginnings, not endings. He smiled, looking at her. Her face was shiny with sweat, she was drooping with exhaustion, still bloated with pregnancy, her hair, thinned by the therapy, was stringy and uncombed, but that wasn't what he saw. 

Perhaps she misinterpreted his gaze. "I'm a mess, aren't I?" she murmured. 

"I was just thinking how beautiful you look." 

"Yeah. Bull." 

Alan laughed. He had always been delighted by her sense of humor, her refusal to take life too seriously. He found himself hoping their son would inherit it, would have his mother's lighthearted attitude, instead of his father's hard-headed determination. 

"Wesley Paul Collins. It's a beautiful name," she said dreamily. 

"Wesley… Seems like a big name for such a little creature." 

"We'll get used to it. Alan…" Her eyes fell as her hand moved to roll a fold of his sleeve between her fingers. "What do you think he'll be like? When he grows up?" 

"Like you." 

She smiled, her eyes brightening. "No, I think he'll be like you. Serious and determined... ambitious… overbearing…" 

"Ha. Now I know what you really think of me." 

Again that light laugh. "I _hope_ he's like you." 

"No, _I_ hope he's more like you. The way you always find something to laugh about." His eyes dropped from hers. "And your strength." He smiled and looked up at her face after another moment. "I think he looks like you, too. Has your hair." 

She laughed and shoved his arm playfully. "He's almost bald! Or is that what you mean?" 

"He'll have your beautiful blonde hair. Which is still beautiful." 

"Liar. Maybe he'll have _your_ beautiful blond hair." 

"Yeah, right." He chuckled. 

Her face clouded, and she looked down at her hand on his sleeve again. "I wish I could breast-feed. I could stop the chemo for a little while..." 

"No. It's not that important, not worth the risk." 

"But it is. It's better for the baby. Helps the immune system, and I can't…" 

"It doesn't matter. He'll be fine." 

"I can't do the very most basic thing that a mother's supposed to do." 

"You love him, don't you? That's the most important thing a mother's supposed to do." He raised her chin with his fingertips and waited for her to meet his eyes. "You're already doing a great job of being a mother." 

"There are going to be a lot of things I can't do. A lot of things you'll have to do instead, and a lot of things he'll miss out on." 

"Don't talk like that. I don't think he'll miss out on anything." 

"We have to face facts. I'll be sick. I won't be strong enough to get up in the middle of the night to feed him... Maybe not even strong enough to pick him up." She looked away again, her voice becoming unsteady. "I won't see him grow up. Won't be there when he goes to his first day of school. When he has his first date. When he graduates, starts his first job, when he gets married." 

"You don't know that. You could still get well." 

"We both know that's not likely." Her eyes moved back to his face. "You'll have to take care of him for both of us. Love him for both of us, after I'm gone. It won't be easy. I'm sorry for that." 

"No, don't ever be sorry. Having Wesley means I'll always have a part of you, even if..." 

"When I'm not here anymore." 

"Honey…" 

"I know, I'm being morbid. We should just be glad he's here, and healthy. That's enough for now." 

She relaxed against the pillows again, a smile on her face, her hand reaching for his. He concentrated on staring at their intertwined fingers until he had his own face under control. "Are you feeling all right?" he finally asked. "Any pain?" 

"No, they gave me something." She grinned. "Really good stuff. We should get some for home." 

He smiled again, and then sobered, noticing her eyelids beginning to droop. "Well, I'd better let you get some rest. The doctor said to make it short." 

He bent to kiss her, his lips lingering on hers as she raised a hand to his head, her fingers sliding into his hair, holding him to her. "Will you be back tomorrow?" she asked. 

"Of course, what do you think? Bright and early. I'll look in on Wesley and then come see you." 

"Good." He was still holding her hand as he stood up. Reluctantly he let go as he stepped back. "Sleep well. See you tomorrow. Mom." Her face lightened with another smile at the word... 

* * *

Alan's voice went on quietly. "She loved being a mother. Even if it was only for a couple of years." 

Jen took Wes's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. After a few moments she broke their silence. "I would have liked to meet her. She sounds like a great person." 

"She was. And she would have been happy to have a daughter-in-law like you. I'm sure she would have liked you." 

"I hope so. I don't think I'm very much like her." 

"No…" Alan turned to smile at her. "Strangely enough, I think you're more like me. No offense." 

She laughed. "I'll take it as a compliment. You mean I'm… kind of serious, like you." 

"Serious. Determined. Stubborn." 

"Unlike Wes, who thinks life's just a big joke…" 

"Hey!" 

"Wes is like his mother in personality, always ready to laugh, always seeing the good in life. That's what I loved most about her, I think. I needed that quality." 

"Just like I need Wes." She smiled as Wes slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her close. "I hope I'll be as good a mother as she was, someday." 

"You will, Jen. I'm absolutely sure." Wes grinned at her. 

"Well," Alan said, with a look at the sky. "It's getting late. I suppose we'd better get going. Have to be back in time to get ready for dinner. What time did you tell Eric and Gaby to be there?" 

"Six. Was that okay?" 

"Fine." 

Wes said, more seriously, "I'm glad he decided to come over tonight. Today's kind of special for him, too. The first Mother's Day since his mother died." 

"I imagine it's the first time he's ever felt like the day means anything. Pretty rough, that he never knew his mother cared about him until after she was dead." 

"Yeah. At least I always knew Mom would have been there if she could." 

"Yes. If she could." 

"But I wish I had known her. Wish I could have talked to her, really gotten to know what she was like." 

"You _do_ know her, Wes, or a part of her. Just look in the mirror." 

*End*

* * *


End file.
